


Growing Pains

by sunbeamruins



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Multi, Other, The Vault (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbeamruins/pseuds/sunbeamruins
Summary: The Doctor had promised to keep an eye on her. It turns out it was really a hand.
Relationships: Missy/Twelfth Doctor's Hand (Implied), Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> for [zabbers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zabbers/pseuds/Zabbers), who inspired this fic.  
> unbeta'd and written in a day, so all mistakes are mine

The problem, Missy surmised, was that the Doctor's hand was still, in essence, the Doctor; as her net harmlessly thwapped against the ground and his hand went skittering away. 

The generally sparse furniture worked to the hand's disadvantage, along with the sharp clicks of its fingernails on any surface other than the plush carpet Missy managed to wrangle from the Doctor for her "bedroom". But like its originator, it was good at one particular thing: running. 

Skirts tied up and out of the way, she readied her net, tracking the hand as it rounded the edge of her naughty cage and disappeared from view. The tell-tale clicks had stopped, and she could all but picture it sitting there, lightly quivering as she slowly moved closer. For all the Doctor was good at running, she was just as good at trapping.

Footsteps surprisingly soft for the amount of heel her boots contained, she crept as close as she dared before giving a quick hop and another swing. Another miss, the hand scampering between her legs and shooting across the room. 

"Oh no you don't," she growled, abandoning the net to dive under the bed after it. It must have sensed something of what she had planned, as it tended to avoided the bed like the plague after one particular night of _experiments_. It hadn't quite managed to get a good grip, long fingers easily pried off the ornate bed frame. Not that that made it cooperate, thrashing about in her grip and doing its best to pinch. Dropping it in a prepared jar, she quickly slammed the lid on. "There," she gloated, smoothing her ponytail into something more resembling its usual messiness. 

Missy watched as it furiously threw itself against the glass walls, much like she had when she was first stuck in here. She knew she'd been bothering the Doctor for more company lately, but this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. 

At least the last hand of his had the decency to stay put. This one had turned up rather unexpectedly, delivered with the rest of her usual supplies. It had looked pathetic, squirming around all bare and bloody. She'd made it a little ruffled cuff, and capped the whole affair with the same red velvet as his favorite suit jacket. No really, his reaction when he had noticed the circle she had cut from the back was a sight to behold. 

A little part of her wondered if it was a veiled message that yes, there were others out there just as capable of hurting him as she was. That would be a bit cruel, coming from him. But he seemed just as stubbornly ignoring the situation as much as she was avoiding questioning it. 

Really, it was like sharing a space with a overgrown house spider, she thought, hauling the jar over to the prepared table. She'd been discretely planning for this for weeks. Okay, only a few days. Or an hour. It was hard to be discreet when there were no walls. And evil scientist had always been more of the Rani's purview, anyway.

Most of the equipment had been cobbled together from what was on hand, obtained through random requests that had been denied by the Doctor in just as random an order. There really wasn't much to do, but that described most of her life at this point.

After struggling to get the alligator clips attached to the lid, she gave the jar and switch a quick flip. The hand didn't have a chance to regain its—footing? fingering?—before the current hit, leaving it twitching weakly. Missy stifled her giggles, flipping the current off a few minutes later. The hand weakly scrambled its way back up, largely unaffected. 

Interesting. She'd already noticed the nails tended to get terribly scratchy if she let them grow too long, and this proved it was hardy, too.

The creaking of gears signaled the start of the arduous unlocking process. Missy didn't bother to contain her eye roll. Just when she was starting to have fun. 

Turning to face the doors, she leant back against the table and put on her best sugary sweet grin. If the jar was right behind her back, well, that was just coincidence. 

"Darling!" she called, just as the Doctor walked in.

"What are you up to this time?" he asked, voice weary and eyebrows furled into a fearsome scowl. 

"I've got no idea what you're talking about," she said, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Try again." A wave of his sonic in her direction and the jar popped open, setting the hand free. It scuttled up to sit in the Doctor's prosthetic—one from the 72nd century, almost as good as the original.

"Traitor," she mouthed at it, before sticking out her tongue. She still didn't quite know how it was connected to its previous owner, and hadn't gotten desperate enough to chop off her own and find out. Her thoughts briefly jumped to his prosthetic, wondering if he sprung for any of the more interesting attachments, and set that aside as a question for later. Knowing him, it'd likely be the sonic fingers.

"Missy." The Doctor was still waiting for an answer, and really, she'd be worried about his eyebrows getting stuck in that frown considering how often it was plastered on his face. 

"If your little girlie got her own Doctor out of one of these why can't I?" she pouted.

He tensed. Did he really think she didn't know? How sweet. "Would you really be satisfied with a biological metacrisis?" he gritted out.

"Oh, so that's what that was." She screwed her face up, humming as she made a show of thinking, lips pursed and swinging from side to side. "Probably not, but one sure would liven the place up."

"If you're unable to contain yourself from attempting to make one I can simply take my hand back."

"Alright, go and be the spoilsport you always are. I promise to stop torturing your hand," she said, stretching out, fingers discreetly crossing themselves.

A stiff nod, and he turned to go.

"Not going to stay for dinner?" she called after him.

"It's noon, and I have class."

The vault swung shut with a definite thump, the hand left standing in front of the closed doors like a puppy denied a walk.

Missy flopped back onto her bed, keeping a lazy eye on it as it stood there waiting.

"Not you too," she groaned. 

It stubbornly didn't move.

"Fine, fine. No more experiments."

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sunbeamruins) or [tumblr](https://sunbeamruins.tumblr.com/) i guess


End file.
